The Portraits' Tale
by da-angel729
Summary: Ron and Harry's portraits tell their love story for a biographer on the 150th Anniversary of the Second War. AU, EWE.


**Author's Note:** Written for **flaminia_x f**or the 2010 Fic Exchange at **harryronholiday** at LiveJournal. As always, feedback and con crit appreciated!

* * *

**The Portraits' Tale**

_Biographer: Our readership knows, of course, the public story of Harry Potter, once known as the Boy Who Lived after surviving the Killing Curse as a child. But you, Mr. Potter, have been nearly silent on your private life beyond identifying Mr. Weasley as your partner. So the Pegasus Publishing Company has decided to do a biography of you to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the end of the Second War. Here we are, then, with the Ministry Portraits of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, to begin our interview._

_Harry: There's really no reason to do this, ma'am. I wasn't the only one who was important._

_Biographer: I am aware, Mr. Potter. And so is my company. However, you were the one Voldemort was fixated on, and everyone else followed your lead. And we're focusing on your private life this time, after the war. So, Mr. Potter, let's begin._

_Harry: Well, I'm not sure what you want, but I'd gotten this portrait here in the Ministry, and Ron got one too, and so did Hermione, and some other people from the Order and the fight against Voldemort. I was going to refuse, but both Ron and Hermione said it was important for other people to remember us, and it's not so bad because we've also got portraits at Hogwarts and we can go back and forth between them._

_Ron: Harry, they don't care about that! They want to know what happened after._

_Harry: After the war, right?_

_Ron: Yes, Harry. They're doing a biography of you, so they want to know how you found the love of your life. Which is me._

_Biographer: Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley is correct. So how did you and Mr. Weasley become an item?_

_Harry: Well, I met him when I was eleven, as you know, and we were friends all through school. But after Voldemort died, I didn't know what to do with myself. Ron and I stayed at the Burrow for awhile, and then we got our own flat in London._

_

* * *

_

Ron was asleep when Harry entered Ron's room at The Burrow just as the sun was lightening the sky, after his second sleepless night in a row. Ron was on his back, arms and legs sprawled over the bed, snoring lightly. Harry squashed the jealously that Ron wasn't having any trouble sleeping and laid his wand on the night table and undressed. _He_ had slept no more than two or three hours a day, normally after the sun came up, with his mind in turmoil more than a week after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Until this morning, Harry hadn't realized how he'd never considered what he'd do after Voldemort. He'd been so focused on _defeating_ Voldemort that he never thought he might _beat_ Voldemort. And now, only a week later, he'd already fielded offers from the Ministry to join the Aurors. Hermione had turned them down, and said she was more interested in a profession in the legal field. The Wizarding Law School had snatched her up and Hermione was starting in September. Ron had said he needed more time to think about it, and Harry had agreed. And the Aurors had left them alone. Harry knew he had Kingsley and Arthur to thank for that.

Wishing he could sleep as easily as Ron was, Harry changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed, hoping he could get a few hours of sleep.

Knowing he wouldn't.

He fell asleep after tossing and turning for what felt like an hour, and the faces of the dead floated in his dreams, young and alive and _happy_. Harry woke up only a few hours later, tears on his face and grateful Ron wasn't in the room with him.

Quickly washing his face, Harry avoided the mirror in the loo, not needing to see his reflection to know he looked terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face looked worn, and Harry performed a quick Refreshing Charm to hide the evidence of another sleepless night. He knew Ron suspected but wouldn't bring it up until Harry did, and he had no intention of letting Ron confirm his suspicions. Leaving the loo, Harry climbed down the stairs, following the smell of bacon and eggs from the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was standing at the stove, overseeing the eggs and bacon magically cooking in their pans. At the sink, Mr. Weasley was washing dishes and levitating them over to the table for other family members to use. Bill and Fleur were dishing plates, and Ginny was pouring milk into glasses at the counter.

George was completely silent, eating his food mechanically and staring at nothing on the wall. Ron, Harry noticed, kept glancing over at him, surreptitiously putting more food on the plate and making sure George was eating.

"Harry, sit down, eat," Mrs. Weasley urged. "We've got plenty."

Harry smiled and sat in the seat next Ron, which had been left open. "Hi, George," he said, and smiled again when George nodded absently. The Weasleys were quiet this morning, as they had been every morning since.

Since Fred had died. Harry wasn't really surprised, because he was different than he'd been a week ago, but sometimes, he missed how the Weasleys used to talk and laugh and shout through the entire house.

"Ron, I'm not sure I want you and Harry to live in London by yourselves," Mrs. Weasley said as she put eggs on Harry's plate. "We have plenty of room here."

"Mum, I've told you already," Ron said, sounding only a little more impatient than he normally did. "Me and Harry want to be closer to work and Diagon Alley. The flat's in a Wizarding area of London, Mum, and we're putting the highest security wards and protections on it. We'll be fine."

Harry watched with amusement as Mrs. Weasley turned to her husband, trying to get him to agree with her. He knew that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't be successful because Mr. Weasley had helped set the wards and was fully behind their move. Harry thought Mr. Weasley wanted some peace and quiet with his wife after all of this.

He nearly snorted with amusement but managed to turn it into a cough. Ron slapped him on the back and Harry nodded in thanks. He'd just used the words "all of this" to describe the war and battle and death and destruction they'd all just been through.

Harry felt guilt swamp through him and pushed his plate away, no longer hungry.

There wasn't a reason to laugh anymore.

* * *

_Ron: Harry and I refused to go to Auror Training, since we both felt we'd done enough fighting for the moment, and I started helping George out at the store, which he needed then. Because—because of Fred, you know, he was—George wasn't doing so well._

_Biographer: And what did you do, Harry?_

_Harry: (laughing) I bummed around the house, being lazy and living off my parents' money, until Ron brought me to my senses._

_Ron: He means to say I snogged him senseless._

_Biographer: Well, this sounds interesting..._

_Harry and Ron: (in unison) It is!_

_

* * *

_

Harry was sitting in an armchair in the flat he and Ron shared when the Floo lit up and Ron exited the fireplace. He was wearing his orange Wheezes robes and his hair was sticking up in green spikes.

"What happened to your hair?"

"A small mishap with an experiment," Ron shrugged. "I'm here to take a shower and then George and I are going to the pub. Want to come with?"

Harry shook his head, annoyance flowing through him. Every time George and Ron went out, Ron asked if he wanted to go with them. This was the fourth time in as many weeks, but Harry didn't want to go anywhere. And how many times would he have to say no before Ron got the point?

Ron sighed and sat down on the couch. "I can stay here, if you want company."

He wanted Ron to leave. If Ron stayed here, then Harry would feel obligated to talk to him. And Ron would get that disappointed look in his eyes, one that had been appearing more often in the last week.

"Go," Harry said, not looking up. "Have fun."

Ron didn't say anything, merely sighed. Harry snuck a glance at him and found Ron staring, a look on his face Harry couldn't decipher. It looked, Harry thought, like disappointment, a little hurt, and maybe even anger, though what Ron had to be angry about Harry couldn't imagine.

"Harry," Ron said, "what are you doing?"

He could hear the exasperation in Ron's voice but didn't quite know what Ron expected him to say.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Harry said. He expected Ron to back off, as he'd done every time they'd had this conversation in the last six months.

"Come off it, Harry!" Ron snapped. "You know exactly what I mean!"

Shocked, Harry glanced up. Ron was standing, arms crossed, glaring at him. His blue eyes blazed and his face was flushed.

The jolt of lust was so surprising Harry merely stared, slack-jawed, at Ron.

Ron didn't seem to notice anything amiss in Harry's reaction, and took his silence as an invitation to continue. "Harry, it's been _six_ months. Six months. When was the last time you even left the flat?"

Harry looked down at his hands, which were shaking slightly. He stilled them and shrugged. "Last week? We got Chinese takeaway down the street."

"Harry, that was three weeks ago!"

Three weeks. Harry wondered if he should be worried he missed out on two weeks of his life. "Oh."

"Oh? Is that all you can say? Oh?" Ron ran his hands through his hair and scrubbed them over his face. He sighed and sat down on the couch, next to Harry, leg brushing against his.

Harry flinched away, slightly, and was glad when Ron didn't seem to notice. His mind was still reeling over what he'd just felt and lust was still coursing through him. He didn't quite understand why he was so surprised. He'd noted, in an abstract way a few years ago, that Ron was attractive. But he'd never _been_ attracted to Ron before. He also had no idea if Ron could—or did—like him that way, or if Ron was attracted to men, but he did know that Hermione and Ron had never gone out more than a few times after the Battle of Hogwarts, and seemed perfectly happy being friends.

Maybe Ron would want to be more than friends with him.

But he couldn't ask Ron right now. Not when he wasn't even sure why he couldn't live.

He remained silent, and Ron leaned back, closing his eyes. Harry watched as he exhaled, loudly, and his head flopped to rest against the backrest of the couch. Ron looked at him and smiled slightly. Harry noticed Ron had lines around his eyes, and guilt stabbed through him. Ron looked tired, Harry thought, and knew that Ron was worried about him, and that he, Harry, had to do something to get them through this.

"I'm sorry."

"Harry, I know you're struggling with this. But you're never going to figure out what you want to do with your life if you don't _do_ something!"

He wanted to pretend he didn't know what Ron was talking about, but Ron wasn't stupid, and had most likely already figured out what he was doing, even if he didn't know _why_.

"I didn't think I would survive."

It was a relief to say it, finally, what Harry knew he had been feeling these last six months. He had tried to convince himself that it was normal, that he didn't need to leave the house or see his friends or figure out what he wanted to _do_ with his life. The worry and anger lifted, and Harry felt his stomach unknot slightly. He looked down at his lap, twisting his hands, not wanting to look Ron in the eye.

He was completely unprepared for what happened next.

* * *

_Biographer: Don't stop there! What happened?_

_Ron: (grinning) Well, Harry had just declared his biggest fear, and why he was having trouble with his life. So I..._

_Harry: I'll tell it, Ron. (To Biographer) He leaned over and took my shoulders..._

* * *

Harry jumped and looked up when Ron's hands gripped his shoulders. Ron was staring straight at him.

"Harry," he said, sighing. "I _always_ believed you would beat Voldemort and live. Why didn't you?"

He stared at Ron, unsure of what to say. Harry didn't think he could articulate why he thought he'd die. But for Ron's sake, for their friendship's sake, he would try. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Ron's face as he said what he'd been holding onto for six months. "It was so dangerous. What we were doing. And it was Voldemort. And the prophecy said one of us would have to kill the other. It seemed logical that Voldemort would be able to defeat me."

Harry could _feel_ Ron's shock in the small room, and Harry opened his eye to see Ron, eyes closed, head tilted forward. Harry wanted to lean forward and bury his face against Ron's shoulder. He wondered if he'd always felt that way, or if it was a recent development. And if he should be worried.

Ron's head lifted and they stared at each other a few moments longer, and then Ron seemed to remember his hands were still on Harry's shoulders. Harry felt Ron's hands tighten and put his own on Ron's arms. He wanted to tell Ron something important, but the blue eyes staring into his were making him forget.

"Ron..." he managed before Ron's lips covered his.

He was kissing Ron. Or rather, Harry thought dimly, _Ron_ was kissing _him_. The kiss seemed to go on forever, and emotions swirled through him. Love, lust, friendship spun together into a kaleidoscope of feelings and Harry was flying, his hands on Ron's arms the only anchor to Earth.

"Oh!"

The feminine voice coming from the Floo broke through the haze of feelings, and Harry pulled back quickly, ending up on the floor in front of the couch.

"Sorry, sorry," Hermione said, standing in front of the fireplace and staring at a spot across the room, above their heads. "I guess you forgot I was coming over for dinner."

She was blushing slightly, but also smiling, Harry noted beyond his own embarrassment. Ron was blushing, too, his eyes down.

"I thought that was tomorrow," Ron said.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, staring at Ron. "You said you and George were going out tonight!"

Ron's face turned even redder, and he mumbled something that Harry didn't understand, though Hermione apparently did because she smothered a laugh and moved toward the kitchen. "I'll get dinner started," she said, holding up the grocery sack of food she'd brought as she left the living room.

Harry turned back to Ron. He was staring across the room, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"Ron," Harry said, and Ron deflated, leaning back against the couch.

"I was hoping you'd refuse so I could confront you about it," Ron said, eyes closed and head tilted toward the ceiling. "It was George's idea."

"George's?"

"We're all worried about you, Harry! You aren't _doing_ anything. Not even volunteer work or bumming around Diagon Alley. You just sit in this flat and do nothing every single day! Do you think you're the only person who didn't think they'd survive?"

Stunned, Harry just stared at Ron, who'd stood up and begun pacing during his speech. He'd had no idea that Ron had been keeping this inside for six months, and felt guilty that Ron hadn't been able to share this with him. They'd never kept things from each other, and he didn't want to start now.

"Do you think that Hermione and I weren't worried about dying, Harry? I was _sure_ that I'd have to die to let you defeat Voldemort. I would've died before I ever let him kill you. But you don't see me acting like I'm already _dead_? Even George is more alive than you, and he's just going through the motions!"

"I'm sorry!" Harry shouted, and Ron stopped, mid-step, in the middle of the living room, and stared at him. "I'm sorry, all right? What else do you want to hear? What do you want me to say, Ron? Just tell me!"

He could hear Hermione in the kitchen, humming as she prepared whatever food she'd brought over, and obviously trying not to hear a word of what he and Ron were saying. He'd apologise to her later, Harry thought, and kept his eyes on Ron's face.

"You don't need to say anything," Ron said, sighing. "Just do something tomorrow. Outside. Interact. Please. We miss you."

Harry twisted his hands together, dropped his eyes to the floor. He saw Ron's feet move closer and Ron's hands reach for his.

"Everything's going to be fine, Harry. You'll see."

* * *

_Harry: So we started dating after that night, and we were together. And poor Hermione would never come over unannounced after the third time, when we were..._

_Ron: Doing something not appropriate for younger audiences, Harry. I think we can leave it at that._

_Biographer: Yes, thank you, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley. The Biography of Harry Potter will be out in six months from the Pegasus Publishing Company. You can pre-order a copy at our website or through Owl Order. Thank you again, and see you at the release party!_


End file.
